


Dead in the Water

by TheDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Canon Era, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/pseuds/TheDragon
Summary: While journeying to a far-off kingdom, Merlin and Arthur come across a group of sirens. Merlin, for one, is convinced he has nothing to worry about.Never has he been more wrong.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 186





	Dead in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ace Week.
> 
> Thank you [AnAceOfHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAceOfHearts) for the beta!

"They're dangerous waters, Sire! ‘Twould be safer if we bypassed them altogether and took the usual route." The ship captain crosses his arms and glares at Arthur, the expression made all the more menacing for the hard set of his jaw and thick, furrowed eyebrows. He reminds Merlin a bit of Gaius whenever he’s trying to keep Merlin from doing something he’s deemed unwise.

Merlin dislikes that glare on principle.

"I understand," Arthur replies. He's using that tone of voice again, the one where he's forcing himself to be polite and diplomatic despite being of a mind to rage at whoever happens to be standing in front of him; Merlin’s all too used to hearing it during the council sessions Arthur forces him to attend. It's a wonder Arthur has managed to remain calm for so long, considering how few people are willing to listen to him.

When he sees the corner of Arthur's lips beginning to rise in a snarl, Merlin shakes his head in warning. Better for Arthur to keep a rein on his temper today. The last thing they need is the captain getting angry at them before the journey has even begun.

"But I need to get there as quickly as possible, and unfortunately, the route you're suggesting would prolong our journey by a few days," Arthur continues, shutting his eyes tightly and taking a deep, calming breath. Merlin almost gives him a pat on the back.

"Just last week, a ship that travelled that route ran ashore. Weren’t a single sailor on it!" the captain retorts, clenching his fists by his sides. "I shan't risk my men's lives by sailing near where those blasted beasts live!"

While he can understand the man’s fear, personally, Merlin isn't worried about any creatures they might encounter. A whole contingent of knights will be sailing with them, all of whom are handy with both a crossbow and a sword—and that's not even to mention Merlin's magic!

Though to be fair, he can’t really tell anyone about the magic bit, and neither can he use it out in the open. He'd only end up with his head on a pike.

…Does this ship even stock pikes?

Merlin shakes his head to clear it and tries to refocus on the conversation.

"—entice you with women!" the captain shouts, spittle flying from his mouth and landing somewhere in the vicinity of Arthur's tunic. Arthur, to his credit, takes it stoically, though Merlin expects him to blow up any second now. He can see a vein pulsing in Arthur's temple—a sure sign that his temper isn't going to be contained for much longer.

Maybe Merlin should cast a quick spell on the captain to make him more agreeable, for his own sake if not Arthur's. He could probably get away with it, too, seeing as all it requires is closing his eyes and murmuring a few choice words under his breath. Everyone around them is too busy to pay any heed to the annoyed mutterings of the Prince's manservant.

Gaius has taken to telling him that he's become too reckless with his magic. Maybe he has a point.

"Women?" Arthur asks, his disbelief clear as day. "Your sailors are willing to jump head-first into the water at the first sight of a pretty face?"

"You've clearly never run into a siren, then."

And there it is—gone are the honorifics. But what the captain just said has given Merlin an idea.

"It'll be fine," he pipes up from his place at Arthur's side, ignoring his raised eyebrow. "Not everyone is attracted to women."

Arthur's second eyebrow rises to join the first. Merlin ducks his head to avoid his surprised gaze.

"That's settled, then," Arthur says, after clearing his throat. His voice sounds a bit more high-pitched than usual, but it may just be Merlin’s overactive imagination. There's no reason for Arthur to sound anything but irritated.

"…All right," the captain says, looking at Merlin with narrowed eyes. Gods only know what _he_ thinks about Merlin's admission. "But there's precautions to take. Earplugs and ropes and such. One lad won't be able to stop everyone from jumping into the water."

Merlin breathes an audible sigh of relief. Arthur does the same.

"When do we set sail?" Arthur asks, unable to keep the relief from his voice. His hands are clenched tightly at his sides—the only part of him openly showcasing his frustration. He resembles, Merlin notes barely fighting off a smile, a dog about to be let off its leash.

"At your earliest convenience, I suppose," the captain replies, with a grim look on his face. Merlin hopes he won’t end up having second thoughts; he wouldn’t want to have to put up with Arthur’s anger should that be the case. "The tide's high enough for us to leave now. Sooner we get this over with, the better." The last sentence comes out as nothing more than a mutter, but the scowl rapidly appearing on Arthur's face indicates that he heard every last word.

"Wonderful!" Merlin exclaims before Arthur can say something the captain will take offence to, ignoring the side-eye this affords him. Arthur knows as well as he does that they would be hard- pressed to find another ship willing to take on so many travellers; really, Merlin constantly interrupting Arthur’s no doubt scathing remarks is all for the greater good.

With one last huff, Arthur diverts the topic to payment for their transport; Merlin allows himself to zone out again.

The rest of the morning passes without further incident. He, Arthur, and the knights are all assigned places to sleep; since the ship is small, they all end up in hammocks rather than actual cots. Arthur doesn't even try to argue his assignment, probably unwilling to get into another disagreement that would have the potential to further delay their journey.

The following day, they're awoken at the break of dawn and barely afforded the time to eat breakfast before one of the older sailors starts going around and passing out lengths of rope and lumps of beeswax, looking just as weary as the captain had. When the man gets to him, Merlin tries to convince him to spare the supplies for someone else, that he won’t be needing them. He ends up getting them pushed into his hands anyway.

Merlin ducks his head and pretends not to see the questioning glance Arthur directs his way. With a sigh, he puts both the rope and the beeswax into his satchel even though he won't be needing them.

Since everyone is already gathered in the galley, the captain takes the opportunity to tell them how, exactly, they will be dealing with the sirens. Some of the crew have been around for a while; Merlin can tell by their expressions who haves had come across sirens before. They listen to each of the captain’s words carefully, and more than once, Merlin sees sailors telling their fellow crewmates to pay attention.

The plan, to hear the captain say it, is simple. The first thing they are to do is soften to clumps of beeswax in their hands, then use them to plug their ears. Apparently, sirens _sing_ , of all things. Merlin would have expected something a bit more gruesome, but he supposes this is better than that time he and Arthur went off to fight a winged serpent that was particularly fond of spitting acid everywhere. The skin on the back of his right hand burns at the mere memory of it.

They’re all to leave the galley and reassemble on the top deck, where everyone, sailors and knights alike, will be tied to the most stable thing they can find, be it a mast, a railing, or something different altogether. No one is to stay below deck, where it will be impossible to keep an eye on them.

Merlin distantly wonders if there's going to be enough room for everyone, but the unexpected utterance of his name brings a stop to those thoughts.

"Merlin here will be responsible for making sure all you lot are tied up. He's the _only_ man allowed to walk freely. I see anyone else taking a stroll about the ship and I’ll tan your hides faster than you can say ‘I’m sorry’," the captain proclaims, waving a hand in Merlin’s general direction. Both sailors and knights look at him in various degrees of confusion—Merlin can’t bring himself to turn and see the expression on Arthur’s face—but the captain continues speaking, not allowing anyone the time to ask any questions.

Just as well. The last thing Merlin wants is to have to explain himself before every single person aboard this ship. His business is his business; it's bad enough that Arthur already suspects. No doubt they're going to be having a talk about it once this trip is over.

Of course, that’s assuming Arthur can even wait that long. It's not like he's known for his patience.

There's a shove to his shoulder. Startled, Merlin glances to the side to see Arthur looking at him with a raised eyebrow. _Again_. He's taken to directing them at Merlin all the more frequently lately, and frankly, it's getting annoying.

Rather than say anything, Merlin shovels another spoonful of soup into his mouth. Let Arthur draw his own conclusions.

~oOo~

The captain is the last of the men left untied, having spent the last half-hour overseeing the proceedings and making sure the ship didn't veer off course. Merlin winds the ropes around him and the mast carefully, but each knot he ties is firm. He has no doubt that the more experienced sailors would be able to take command of the ship should anything happen to the captain, but why take the chance?

He's barely finished tying the last knot when he hears the first notes of a soft, soothing melody—except, he shouldn’t be able to hear this, should he?

Bringing his hands up to his ears, Merlin comes to the alarming realisation that he neglected to put in his earplugs. As quickly as he can, Merlin reaches into his satchel, pushing past all the poultices and vials of potions he packed inside, but he can’t find what he’s looking for. Just as he's about to open the flap to look inside, the singing gets louder and something pops up from the water not far from the ship. It startles Merlin so much that he lets go of the flap altogether.

It must be one of the sirens. He expected to be faced with a monster, but this…

The creature has taken the form of a woman. At this distance, Merlin can barely make out any of her facial features, but once she swims closer, he concludes that she may well be the most beautiful woman he's ever seen—all flowing, dark hair and bright eyes, with ruby-red lips tilted in a soft, enticing smile. He suddenly understands why men would throw themselves overboard at the sight of such a creature.

Just as well he's not attracted to women, then.

Behind him, he can hear the beginnings of a struggle. Merlin tears his eyes away from the siren and turns around. The sight he's met with is not unexpected, yet it still makes his heart stutter. All around him, men are pushing forward, trying to free themselves of the ropes, faces red and muscles strained. As Merlin watches, one of them struggles so much that rivulets of blood start flowing down his chest. If this is how they are reacting to hearing the song—and this in spite of the beeswax muffling the music—Merlin can understand why the captain was so unwilling to sail through these waters.

If only Arthur had kept his mouth shut, they wouldn't be in this mess. No one would have to worry about sailors injuring themselves trying to jump into the arms of a creature from the depths of the sea. A few days of wasted time is nothing in comparison to the guarantee of their continued well-being.

…Oh gods, he forgot to check on Arthur!

Abruptly, Merlin turns on his heels and breaks into a run, headed straight for the captain’s cabin. One of the knights was supposed to have made sure that Arthur was safe, but Merlin isn't going to be taking any chances.

He can barely manage to keep his footing at the best of times, and the swaying of the ship isn't helping matters at all. More than once, Merlin has to grab something to hold onto or risk being whisked off his feet and straight into the sea. It takes him altogether too long to get to the stern of the ship, and when his legs _do_ finally manage to get him there—

Arthur isn't where Merlin left him.

The sheer, overwhelming panic almost makes his heart stop. Blood pounding in his ears, Merlin forces himself to take a deep, calming breath, then another, until the encroaching blackness starts to recede from his vision. On the third breath, he looks around, trying to find anyone wearing even a hint of Camelot red.

Arthur is wearing his cape, isn’t he? Merlin recalls fastening it around Arthur’s neck before they left in the morning. Surely, such a long swath of vibrant red should be easy enough to spot?

Or wait, didn’t Arthur take it off when they were making to leave the galley? Something about how it would keep the bindings from being secure. Did _Merlin_ take it off for him? He can’t. He can’t _remember_ , not with the panic making his heart pound, not with that _godsdamned_ song winding its way through the air.

Merlin’s knees go weak when he catches a glimpse of something golden shining brightly beneath the sun, the exact shade of Arthur’s hair. And it _is_ Arthur, with his hair and clothes billowing in the wind, bound to the railing of a set of stairs far too close to the edge of the ship for comfort.

Immediately, Merlin’s feet take him towards Arthur. He’s… he doesn’t seem out of sorts—not yet, anyway. From where he is, Arthur is definitely able to see the beautiful women slowly making their way towards them, but he doesn’t seem to be reacting to them at all, not like most of the other men aboard the ship.

Could the beeswax actually be working?

 _Or he’s not attracted to women either_ , Merlin’s treacherous heart supplies. He hushes it before it can say any more; there’s no point in bringing his hopes up, not when anything beyond a friendship is impossible at this point. Not while Uther Pendragon sits upon Camelot's throne.

Putting these thoughts from his mind, Merlin rushes towards Arthur, wanting to make absolutely sure that he's all right and it’s not just Merlin’s wishful thinking. Unfortunately, while stumbling over his own feet, he makes the mistake of looking over at the water.

And as luck would have it, his gaze lands on a siren—the same one he spotted before.

She's no longer singing with the rest of them, but rather staring at Merlin with her mouth slightly opened, her head tilted a bit to the side. The look she's giving him is one of consideration, as if she's not quite sure what to make of him.

And then she starts shifting, right before his very eyes. It's unnerving, seeing her jaw widen, the facial hair begin to spread across it, going up her cheeks. Her eyebrows become more bushiery, her forehead broadens, and Merlin suddenly realises that he's no longer looking at a woman, but rather a gorgeously handsome man, muscled and fit, with a head full of short, blonde hair.

To be fair to the siren, he _does_ prefer the male form, but it’s more of an aesthetic attraction. Never once has Merlin lusted after a man, and he sincerely doubts that's going to change. And even if he ever does—somehow, _miraculously_ —feel attracted to anyone, it's going to be Arthur.

Merlin startles when the siren starts singing again, his voice lovely and deep, promising Merlin pleasures no human can ever give him if only Merlin joins him in the water. It's not even the slightest bit tempting to him, but judging by the scrabbling noises behind him, it must have an effect on the other men.

Yet despite all of that, Merlin finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from the figure before him. He comes to the disconcerting realisation that the longer he stares, the more the man starts to look like Arthur. He darts a quick glance to the side to see if Arthur noticed, and is met with a wide-eyed stare that has his knees going weak and the blood rushing from his face.

It's impossible for Arthur not to have noticed, not with the look he's giving Merlin. Maybe he'll get lucky and Arthur won't press the issue. Merlin can't imagine actually talking about this and humiliating himself further.

If not for the fact that he promised to stay here and keep an eye on everyone, he would have hightailed it back below the deck the second he realised the siren had caught on to his lack of interest in women and consequently decided to take on the form of the man Merlin is in love with. At least he wouldn't have to worry about having to face Arthur once this ordeal is over.

Barely realising what he’s doing, Merlin takes a step back—which, as it turns out, is a mistake. The fury that blooms across the siren's face is horrible to witness, momentarily transforming it into a creature with sallow skin and fangs long enough to rip a man's throat clean out.

When he takes another step away from it, the siren's song turns into a high-pitched screech that threatens to burst his eardrums. Merlin barely has the time to put his hands over his ears before it abruptly cuts off.

The siren never once turns its eyes away from Merlin. The glare on its face that could rival Uther's, though it’s there and gone, quickly replaced by yet another look of consideration— _deliberation_ , even. With piercing, bright eyes, the siren looks upon Merlin as though he's something it has never seen before, as though he's some rare species it's only now had the misfortune to stumble upon.

And then it drops whatever remains of the glamour and shows Merlin what it _really_ looks like—hollow cheeks, irises that are a shade of blue so washed out that it almost melds with the whites of its eyes, long, yellowing teeth, and a snarl that seems permanently fixed in place.

It’s unnerving. Merlin would have preferred it kept its previous appearance, his own humiliation be damned.

"Emrys."

Merlin startles and whips his head from side to side, searching for whoever just spoke. The only person looking at him is Arthur, and he doesn't seem to have heard or said anything; everyone else has their gazes fixed in the distance, either already under the sirens' spell, or about to be.

"Emrys," the voice calls again, this time with an upward tilt to its voice, and Merlin realises that it's not anyone on the ship who spoke, but rather, the siren. " _Emrys_."

He stands still, looking straight at it, for the first time in his life unsure of what to say. The siren tilts its head to the side and narrows its eyes before calling for him again.

"Come, _Emrys_ ," it coaxes. "Come, and all your troubles will be washed away."

"I think I'm going to stay where I am, thanks," Merlin replies, half-turning away from it to make sure all the men are still safely restrained.

"Come into the water," it says, as though it didn’t hear him. "If you come to me, I promise to help you fulfil your destiny. Magic will be free. All throughout the lands, magic users will be allowed to come out of hiding and live their lives without fearing retribution for something they were born with, something they can't help. All you need to do is come to me."

Something about the words strikes a chord in Merlin, and rather than backing further away, he finds himself taking a step closer. The siren smiles, but there's nothing kind about it, nothing that should be making Merlin _want_ to come any closer. Yet as it keeps talking, as the spoken words slowly transform into a song, Merlin finds himself unable to resist.

"Come," it coaxes again. "Come, and you can live in freedom. Come, and you'll never have to hide anymore. Come, and you shall bring about Camelot’s golden age. Come, and you can spend the rest of your life with the man you love, side by side, for all eternity. You only need to come into the water, and you’ll have all you ever wanted."

And yes, that really does sound good, doesn't it? To be able to be himself, to openly use magic? It's a dream come true! The promise of a future spent at Arthur's side? It's something he never imagined could happen, yet Merlin longs for it with all his heart. And if there's even the slightest chance of the siren's promise becoming a reality?

Maybe… maybe he should listen to the siren and go into the water. All of his problems would be solved, all of his dreams would come true. He would never have to worry about anything ever again.

All he needs to do is take the final step over the railing and let himself fall.

Merlin barely hears Arthur calling out his name, voice stricken with panic.

~oOo~

At first, it really looks like their plan is going to work. Seeing Merlin unaffected by the siren's song convinces Arthur that everything is going to be all right, that the danger would pass and they wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Witnessing the creature change its appearance in the blink of an eye is disconcerting, to say the least, but the form it takes is so alluring that Arthur almost starts struggling in his bindings.

Merlin doesn't seem too bothered by it; he barely pays the creature any attention at all until its hair turns blond and its skin takes on a tone that resembles Arthur’s own.

And oh, he was right, wasn't he? When he assumed Merlin's lack of attraction to women. What other reason could there be for the siren to be trying to tempt him into the water having taken the form of a man?

A man that looks more like Arthur with each passing second.

…Except that doesn't seem to do it for Merlin either. He looks back at Arthur a few times, growing increasingly anxious, but he isn't in a stupor like most of the other men who have fallen under the sirens' spell. Merlin's eyes are clear, his movements no less clumsy than usual—all in all, he’s behaving the same way he normally does.

At least, until the siren takes on its true form and starts singing again, its words and melody meant for Merlin's ears only. At first, Arthur is convinced it isn't going to work—because nothing, _nothing_ has so far, so why would this suddenly have Merlin jumping overboard?—except, Merlin goes weirdly still, gaze fixed firmly on the creature in the water.

Arthur starts writhing in his bindings before Merlin takes the first step, suddenly overwhelmingly certain that this—whatever _this_ is—isn't going to end well. One of the nails in the railing is sticking out a bit; Arthur rubs the rope against its rough surface, hoping to any deity that exists he'll manage to free himself in time.

"Merlin!" he shouts in desperation, the dread making his heart pound so hard that it feels as though it's trying to break out of his chest. When Merlin turns to look at him, eyes glazed over, the ropes suddenly give—all of them, even the ones around Arthur’s waist, which he didn't even have the chance to _touch_ —and Arthur stumbles forward, barely managing to stay on his feet.

Not five metres away from him, Merlin is putting one leg over the railing. The sight of it jars Arthur into action. He rushes forward, headed straight for Merlin, hoping against all hope that he'll be in time to save him.

It’s overwhelming, the relief that floods him the moment he grabs Merlin by the shoulders and hauls him back, far away from the edge. Merlin is still in a stupor, though, and doesn’t even try to break his fall—he ends up bashing the back of his head against the deck. As much as the injury worries Arthur, it turns out to be a blessing in disguise because it knocks Merlin out cold. Arthur takes the opportunity to rifle around in Merlin's bag, looking for the earplugs he received earlier in the day because it’s obvious the utter _idiot_ hadn’t bothered to use them, else none of this would have happened!

He debates whether or not to tie Merlin up, should he wake up before they get somewhere safer and decide to take yet _another_ dive into the water, but Merlin's injured state gives him pause. Arthur ends up hauling Merlin over his shoulder and heading for the captain's cabin, where he'll be able to confine Merlin to a bed—the only bed aboard the ship, unfortunately—and keep an eye on his only escape route.

…Unless the idiot decides to jump out the window rather than head out the door. Maybe Arthur should stay with him, just in case. Or at least stay in the doorway, so that he'll be able to keep an eye on the men in Merlin's stead while also making sure Merlin doesn't try anything.

The beeswax in his ears has been working thus far—it would have worked for Merlin too, had he actually bothered to _make use of it_ —and it's fair to assume it will continue to do so. Besides, he might as well make use of his new-found freedom.

Merlin doesn't stir as Arthur carefully lays him down atop the sheets, making sure to keep the pressure off the injury at the back of his head. Arthur gives himself a moment—only a moment, mind you—to push Merlin's fringe back from his forehead before taking up a position in the doorway.

The sirens fall back eventually, presumably having noticed that they won't be getting any prey off this ship. One by one, they dive back beneath the water and disappear, hissing in his general direction, as though he's the one keeping them from their food. Arthur waits until they've been gone for a while to make sure it's not a trick of some sort—these creatures do seem to possess some form of intelligence, so he wouldn't put it past them—before moving to free the sailors and his own men from their bindings.

Courtesy dictates he should go for the captain first, but his concern for Merlin outweighs everything else, so he heads straight for the physician instead. Arthur doesn't bother untying the ropes—the knots are tight, and he's short on time—so he removes his dagger from his belt and slices straight through them, urging the man to remove his earplugs and directing him towards the captain's cabin.

He has to repeat the instructions twice before they stick; the man is clearly only now coming out of his stupor. Arthur's patience is running thin by the time the physician runs off, and he loses whatever of it remains upon seeing the captain's glare. The man says something—no doubt a scathing remark of some sort—but the words are muffled courtesy of the beeswax in his ears.

Just as well. It wouldn't do to have to try him for treason while on the open sea.

The captain heads towards the ship's wheel the moment the ropes fall away, leaving Arthur with the arduous task of freeing the remaining men. Arthur delegates it to the next man whose bindings he removes; he is their prince, after all, and he has much more important things to occupy his time with.

Like, for example, making sure Merlin hasn't breathed his last in Arthur's absence. The mere thought has nausea curling in the pit of his stomach, so he quickens his steps, barely able to keep himself from breaking into an all-out run. As he goes, he finally removes his own earplugs and dumps them onto the floor. He'll need to hear what the physician has to say.

Or, if he's lucky, what _Merlin_ has to say, assuming he's awoken.

Unfortunately, that's not the case. Merlin is just as still as he was when Arthur left him, but in the time Arthur has been gone, the physician has retrieved his medical kit and is in the process of wrapping a bandage around Merlin's head. Without needing to be asked, Arthur goes to hold Merlin up, so that the man will have an easier time treating his injuries.

Merlin looks frail, _breakable_ , lying there on the bed, more still than Arthur has ever seen him be. Arthur’s grip on him tightens.

He should never have brought Merlin along. He should have sent him back the moment it became clear that this journey was going to be dangerous.

Though knowing Merlin, he would no doubt have tried to come along regardless. Arthur wouldn't put it past him to try sneaking aboard the ship the second Arthur's head was turned, no doubt under the misconception that Arthur wouldn’t be able to get by without him.

If only Arthur had sent him back to Camelot, none of this would have happened. Merlin would never have encountered the sirens, never have gotten injured, never have been at risk of _dying_.

No. No, he can’t think like that. Merlin was going to be all right. It's not as though he hasn't been through worse, and he's always made it back alive and relatively unharmed. There's no reason to assume this time would be any different.

Except that Merlin still hasn't woken up. Arthur resolves to stay by his side until he does. Were their places switched, he has no doubt Merlin would do the same for him.

~oOo~

Merlin doesn't open his eyes until the following morning. His frantic movements startle Arthur from his slumber; he barely manages to avoid the wayward hand that heads for his face.

"Mer— Calm down!" Arthur exclaims, jumping out of his chair placing his hands on Merlin's shoulders to push him back down into the mattress. When Merlin doesn’t stop struggling against his hold, Arthur relents and helps him sit up instead, piling the pillows up behind him so he has something comfortable to lean against. "You're all right! Everyone's all right!"

"Arthur?" Merlin asks, blinking up at him blearily. "Wha' happen'd?" All the moving around must have jostled his injury, because the next thing Merlin does is reach towards it. "M' head," he complains, shutting his eyes tightly. "Hurts."

"Well, you have no one to blame for that but yourself," Arthur snipes, inexplicably angry now that Merlin is awake and talking. "What were you thinking?! You were supposed to be taking precautions—that's what the beeswax was for! If you'd have listened to me for once in your life you wouldn't have almost died!"

"I almost died?" Merlin peers up at him through half-shut eyes. "I can't remember."

He's looking at Arthur as though he wants an explanation, but Arthur can't, _can't_ go through that again. He spent the whole night going back to that moment, the one when he realised Merlin was going to jump into the sea, and God, Arthur really did almost lose him, didn't he? As much as Merlin might like an explanation, he's going to have to wait for one, at least until Arthur is able to get the words past the lump that appears in his throat whenever he so much as _thinks_ about mentioning what almost happened.

What he almost _allowed_ to happen because he was stupid enough to listen to Merlin. Stupid enough to believe Merlin wouldn't fall under an enchantment, because when did he ever? No matter what they went through, no matter how dangerous the quest, Merlin always made it out fine. It made Arthur complacent, but he won't be repeating this mistake again.

"When we get back to Camelot," Arthur says, his voice a quiet rumble. "Things are going to change."

"What are you talking about?" Merlin asks, furrowing his brows.

"This is the last trip you're accompanying me on. Next time, you're going to stay at the citadel, where it's _safe_ , like any other servant would."

It's impossible for Merlin not to have heard the underlying threat, but it’s become obvious he's lacking much in the way of self-preservation.

"You're joking," Merlin says, voice firm. "You wouldn't last a day without me; I'm not about to let myself get left behind."

"Damn it, Merlin!" Arthur yells, the frustration bubbling up in his chest. "You're not going anywhere! I brought you along this time and look—" he breaks off and grits his teeth, unable to say the words.

"I'm coming."

"You're not. Not unless I am absolutely sure you're going to be safe," Arthur decides. "Not unless you learn how to wield a sword or an axe. Not until you learn how to protect yourself!"

"I can protect myself just fine!" Merlin shouts right back, incredulous.

"Oh, I’m sure. And that's why you decided to take a dip in the sea, is it?"

"I did…" Merlin trails off. "Oh. _Oh_."

"Remember now, do you?" Arthur asks, but the words come out pained. All the anger suddenly drains away, leaving him feeling hollow.

"I… um. Yeah," Merlin says, avoiding looking at Arthur's face. He falls silent and starts picking at the bedding.

Arthur can't stand to see him quiet—it reminds him too much of how Merlin was while he was unconscious, when the only thing Arthur could hear was the sound of Merlin's ragged breaths. No teasing, no banter. Just pained breathing.

"How did they lure you in?" The need to know is overwhelming. Merlin sounded so _sure_ when he said there was nothing to worry about, no chance of him falling under the sirens' spell—and look how that turned out.

"I. Um…" Merlin's eyes dart all over the room, back and forth, as though he can whip up an explanation from thin air. It's quickly making Arthur lose whatever of his patience remains.

"It didn't work at first," Arthur says, recalling the moment the siren first appeared, having taken the shape of a beautiful woman. "Not when it changed, either." Though the transformation did stop Merlin in his tracks, if only for a moment. "So not women or men. What was it, then? What did it say to get you under its spell?"

"I… please don't ask me that," Merlin says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Arthur pretends he can't see the brightness in his eyes, the single tear trailing down his cheek. He needs an explanation, and by God _he will get one_.

He needs to know what went wrong so that he can keep Merlin _safe_.

"Merlin." Arthur's not going to beg. He _isn't_ —though his more and more of his steadfast resolve drains away the longer Merlin looks at him with that pleading gaze.

"Happiness," Merlin says after a long, tense silence. "It promised me happiness. And freedom."

The words 'But you're already free' are on the tip of Arthur's tongue, but something in Merlin's expression stops him from saying them.

"…Are you not happy in Camelot?" Arthur hates how his voice comes out sounding so small, but he can't seem to make it any louder. "Are… are you not content?"

Prior to this, had anyone asked Arthur if Merlin was happy with the life he had, he would have said yes. Of course, there are times Merlin walks around the citadel looking despondent, and times when he shows up in the morning tired and bruised, but other than that…

He never gave Arthur any indication that he's unhappy, and that _hurts_.

"It's not like that!" Merlin exclaims, evidently able to sense that Arthur's thoughts have taken a darker turn. "It's… not anything to do with you. It's not that I'm unhappy, per se, but…"

"But you could be happier," Arthur finishes for him. He clears his throat and winds his fingers through the soft fabric of his breeches to steady himself. "Is it… was the siren right, then? That it's not women for you, but rather men? Is that why you thought you wouldn’t have anything to worry about?"

Merlin finally deigns to fix his eyes upon Arthur's face, looking for all the world like a deer in front of a crossbow.

"I—" he breaks off, tightening his grip on the blanket so much that his knuckles turn white. "Yes. Kind of."

It takes Merlin a while to find the words for what he wants to say next.

"I… It's not physical attraction," Merlin mumbles, ducking his head and gnawing on his bottom lip. "It's never been about physical attraction for me; it's the emotional connection. But yes, it's men."

Arthur barely hears the end of what Merlin says. _Emotional connection_. So any attraction he feels, it would be towards someone he already knows, and likely knows well. And the siren, when it took the form of a man, had blond hair and a wide jaw, and numerous other features Arthur recognises from his own reflection.

It could be him, couldn't it? Would it be that much of a stretch of the imagination to assume that Merlin is in love with him?

"Merlin," Arthur says, instantly putting a stop to the panicked rambling. Merlin looks up at him, shoulders nearly to his ears and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Stop me."

And then he leans forward and presses his own lips to Merlin's.

For one terrifying second, Arthur thinks he misread the situation, that he was too blinded by the hope that Merlin might actually be interested in him to realise that that isn't actually the case.

The fear recedes when Merlin kisses him back, lips moving insistently against Arthur's. Ever so carefully, Arthur winds one arm around Merlin's waist and places his other hand on the nape of his neck, making sure not to do anything that would irritate the injury. Merlin, however, has no qualms about taking what he wants—the moment they separate, Merlin takes advantage of Arthur's lack of breath to push him back onto the chair manoeuvre his way onto his lap.

Merlin presses his lips against Arthur's insistently, and, well, Arthur's never been one to deny him, not when it really matters. Besides, he's waited far too long for this, and now that he's kissed Merlin once, he wants to do it again, to see what kind of sounds he can get Merlin to make, to hear bitten-off moans and whimpers leave his throat.

"So it _was_ me, then, that the siren turned into," Arthur pants against the side of Merlin's neck. Merlin's hair tickles his throat as he nods in confirmation, tightening his grip on Arthur's waist. "But if it was me, then why didn't you go with it? Why didn't you fall under its spell at that moment?"

"Because I'm not attracted to people in that way," Merlin replies, his voice hoarse and breathy. "Not even people I like. I… I suppose I don't know what it's like to feel lust, and that was all the siren was offering, until…"

"Until it dropped the act," Arthur finishes for him. "Until it offered something else."

"Yeah."

In a moment of weakness, Arthur presses a soft kiss to Merlin’s temple.

"Will you ever tell me?" he asks, using his thumb to draw circles on the small of Merlin's back.

"What?" Merlin lifts his head from Arthur's shoulder and looks up at him, confused.

"What it said to convince you to jump," Arthur explains. "Will you ever tell me?"

"One day," Merlin says, visibly pained. Arthur wants nothing more than to kiss the expression off his face. "I promise I'll tell you one day."

"I'll hold you to that, then."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, come find me on [tumblr](https://lair-of-the-dragon.tumblr.com/)!


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